I have read and heard all kinds of stories about people who bought their homes without first taking a good, hard look at any potential problems and then had a terrible time. I've even heard of a few wackos who bought their houses sight unseen. Can you imagine?
As for me, I'm a big believer in legwork. I wanted to find out everything I could about the history, character, stability and future prospects of this piece of real estate I was marrying. I wanted a house, not a job renovating a house. I wanted to decorate, plug in the frigo and pour a Pastis.
In the States, it is standard practice for the buyer to hire their own inspector to provide an independent, expert assessment of the property. When I suggested it in France, the sellers and immobilier found the notion terribly odd -- exactly the kind of thing you'd expect from a pushy American lady -- but they had no objections. That alone was reassuring.
Under French law, after you have signed the Compromise de Vente you have seven days to back out with no questions asked. That meant that I had a week to locate an inspector and have them examine the house. The owners had provided their own, standard "Diagnostic Immobilier" that provided assurances on lead, termites, threats from natural disasters and energy use. I wanted someone to look at the roof, plumbing, electrical systems, structure and compare what they saw to the French report. I wanted a few questions answered. It seemed like common sense.
Once again, Wendy at French Help Services came through with a recommendation, finding Martin Glover at Inextensio Restoration and Building Services, an Anglo-French construction company in the Languedoc, who was willing to drive over to see the house. So one hot afternoon, two days after making the offer, I stood with Martin and his French partner Samuel in the cave of the house staring a piece of lead pipe. Martin explained that it was the responsibility of the water company not the homeowner to change and pay for that bit of pipe, and he told me who to call.
From cave to terrasse, on all three floors, we poked and prodded, questioned the owner and checked records at the Mairie. Happily, what Martin and Samuel found confirmed the owner's report. And the additional effort also provided me with a short list of jobs that I'd need to prepare to do and budget for within the next couple of years -- a new hot water tank, waterproofing the tile on the roof, a little remortaring. Nothing urgent.
The inspection cost 500 Euros -- a small price to pay for peace of mind and an objective report written in both French and English. Afterward, we adjourned to the shady creperie on the place of a neighboring village for a few glasses of wine and conversation on the difficulty of running a small business in France.
When I checked out Inextensio online later, I discovered how hard it can be to find a company like them in France. There are a few individual tradesmen with English language sites,, as well as a few directories, but a better, broader resource may be the various online communities of expats in France that often have classifieds or places for tradespeople to advertise. When it is time to make any of the inevitable repairs that will be needed on a nearly 200-year-old house, I'll call Martin back to do them. And I could move forward with little reservation toward closing.
